


It's the Day of the School Formal....

by C-chan (1001paperboxes)



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2016-04-01
Packaged: 2018-05-30 10:43:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6420667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1001paperboxes/pseuds/C-chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the day of the School Formal, and everything is perfect. It's the day of the School Formal, and nothing will ever be right again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's the Day of the School Formal....

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ElisabethMonroe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElisabethMonroe/gifts).



> Happy April Fool's Day! I hope you enjoy this trip through a lovely(ish) Courferre(ish) night(ish) at a school formal. :)

It's the day of the School Formal, and everything is perfect. 

The room is decorated at that sweet spot between elegant and camp, the music is a great mix of dance, popular, and retro, and, most importantly, you look amazing.

Not that this comes as any surprise. The name  _ Courfeyrac _ alone is enough to turn heads and cause swooning in the right circle. But  _ hot damn _ you are rocking that suit.

The only thing missing that would make this night complete is your boyfriend. This isn't quite his kind of event (too much noise, not enough bluetooth) but you're going to make sure he has the best time. You've even taught him a bit of ballroom in preparation. Plus, he's going to look adorable in the British-style suit you picked out for him. Yours is Italian, but he wouldn't look right in that cut. Still, the colours are going to make you look perfectly complementary and so certainly together while maintaining your own individuality.

Just when you start imagining a slow dance, your hands tangling in his hair as you bring him down for a kiss, you feel a tap on your shoulder.

It's Cosette. She's wearing a beautiful long gown with layers of tulle that swish and sparkle as she moves. But something's wrong. Something's wrong, and she's crying, and she's talking to you.

"I-it's Combeferre," she says. "He… he and Marius were driving together and there was an accident and…."

It's the day of the School Formal, and nothing will ever be right again.

 

* * *

 

It's the day of the School Formal, and nothing is right at all.

There was a fire in the dance hall and the whole affair has been moved to a bowling alley which appears to be playing nothing but Robin Thicke on repeat. You  _ hate _ Robin Thicke. Worst of all, the suit you meticulously chose out and ordered arrived mothbitten and two sizes too small.

Really, it's a total disaster.

You're not sure why everyone is after you to fix everything. You're not sure why you're even here in a suit you could barely squeeze into and covered in holes.

It's the day of the School Formal, and you're going to have to work a miracle if you want to make this the best day of your life.

 

* * *

 

It's the day of the School Formal, and you are ill.

Maybe it's the lobster or the off-tasting juice. Maybe it's that bug you heard rumours of. Maybe it's a terminal illness, unpreventable and tragic.

All you know for sure is that your body feels like lead, your head is sore and fuzzy, and it's hard to string even two thoughts together.

Combeferre comes to visit you. He's wearing a HAZMAT suit. You tell him to enjoy the dance. At least one of you will.

It's the day of the School Formal, and you wonder if you'll ever be well enough to go to school again.

 

* * *

 

It's the day of the School Formal, and there's blood everywhere.

A few dead bodies lie on the floor but there's a flurry of movement that overtakes the shock.

Enjolras is taking command, giving orders to a sea of people. Jehan has a pair of sais at the ready and Feuilly is brandishing a war fan. Combeferre has pulled a shotgun out of who knows where. Bahorel and Grantaire are trying to barricade the doors. Joly is trying to construct a medbay out of gym mats and the rest are trying to help where they can.

There's a horrible din rising over the music, a crescendo that will overpower it soon. You just have to hope that you are prepared enough. You just have to hope that you are ready. You just have to hope that you and all your friends will survive this fight.

It's the day of the School Formal, and the zombie apocalypse has begun.

 

* * *

 

It's the day of the School Formal, and something's not quite right.

The music is on point, and you find yourself grooving despite yourself. The decoration is sparse, but in a tastefully underdone sort of way. You've even had a glass of punch, and it was a lovely tart-sweet.

But something still feels off.

You realize that you haven't seen Enjolras anywhere.

Or Marius and Cosette.

Or  _ Combeferre _ .

Come to think of it, you don't know if you recognize anyone around you, and you can hardly walk ten steps at school without seeing someone who you know a dozen things about.

It's the day of the School Formal, and you are at the wrong dance.

 

* * *

 

It's the day of the School Formal, and the dance is underway.

There's people everywhere bumping and grinding, and you find yourself cutting between them, trying to find your friends.

While you certainly could have a group time with anyone, there's something even better about spending time with those you cherish, after all. Plus, you and Cosette can pull some moves that make your respective boys unable to look away, not to mention about half the dance floor.

Come to think of it, a few more people are eyeing you than you expect. You do a twirl and few steps as you continue searching. You smile at the people looking your way.

You must've circled the floor three times, but you find them at last. Joly is waving at you, but he looks confused. Grantaire is cackling, and Combeferre is burying his head in his hands. It's Enjolras who approaches you and he lays a warm hand on your shoulder.

"Courfeyrac," he says, "do you realize that you're not wearing any clothes?"

It's the day of the School Formal, and you suddenly feel horribly underdressed.

 

* * *

 

It's the day of the School Formal, and something's not quite right.

Your suit isn't fitting, even though it was tailored to perfection. It feels tight in the hips and chest, and the jacket sit far too low on your legs.

You call out to see if someone can help you and it doesn't sound right.

You look in the mirror and… oh. Well. That would be why.

It's the day of the School Formal, and you are somehow a girl.

 

* * *

 

It's the day of the School Formal, and the dance floor feels alive.

You are showing off moves that will make other swoon and have successfully helped drag Marius out of his shell and onto the floor. Cosette kisses you on the cheek in thanks before bumping her hip against his. He blushes but dances along.

There's a small knot of friends doing all the easy dance moves they can think of together. You see Bossuet leading the sprinkler and Grantaire doing the shopping cart. You laugh and join in for a quick round or two.

The music changes to a slow dance and you find yourself in Combeferre's arms. You hug him close, content to sway to the beat, and you feel him follow suit. Part of you wants to try to lead him in a proper waltz, but the moment is far too blissful just as it is and you don't want to change it now.

The song draws to an end. You close your eyes and part your lips and feel his gently against yours.

You open your eyes and find yourself gazing at Principal Mabeuf.

It's the day of the School Formal, and you're not quite sure who your boyfriend is anymore.

 

* * *

 

It's the day of the School Formal, and you hear a familiar voice calling you to arms.

It is Enjolras. He looks strikingly beautiful on top of a pile of desks and filing cabinets as he gives a speech about the future and how bright it will be, if only you can make it so.

There is a scent of gunpowder in the air and the sound of drums in the distance.

You could die today, but you are at peace, knowing that your death will not be in vain.

It's the day of the School Formal, but some things are more important than a night and a dance.

 

* * *

 

You wake up and look at the calendar.

It is April 1st. The School Formal is on April 15th.

The School Formal is two weeks away, and somehow you couldn't be more relieved.


End file.
